Harry Potter and the Muggleborn Girl
by SusyTheQuibbler
Summary: An ordinary girl from the Caribbean finds herself being invited to Hogwarts by the Weasleys themselves for the adventure of her lifetime. It is the dream of any Harry Potter fan! Join Susanna in a journey full of magic, humour and the unexpected!
1. A Familiar Sound

**Chapter One****:A Familiar Sound**

It was six in the morning of August the thirty-first and my mother was telling me to wake up. The thing is, I was too tired to wake up, so I decided to sleep for another couple of minutes. When I glanced at the clock, it was half past six and my mother said: "Susy, wake up already! You don't want to be late for school!" but I had not enough energy to hear, or perhaps I didn't _want_ to hear, so I continued to sleep recklessly. At five to seven, after another few shouts by my mother that again I did not hear, it was the time I had apparently crossed the line, and it was when my mother had to shout: "Susanna Cecillia! Get up this instant or those Harry Potter books of yours are going to pay the price!" At that moment, my legs gathered strength from nowhere and stood me up in front of the mirror to reveal a skinny, brown-haired girl. I dressed up, combed my hair and had breakfast. Minutes later I was on my way to school — by car, of course — Henry Ford's bright idea of the 19th century — driven by my mother who understood me a lot better than anyone else (besides my friends and my cousin).

We had almost reached school, when a loud noise entered my ears; it was a noise that a car without a muffler would make. This reminded me of the second Harry Potter film in which Ron and Harry get on an old car which made a sound very much like the one I was hearing. Harry Potter was my obsession. I had posters, movies, books, soundtracks, and therefore, all about him. . . Well, _almost_. At least more Harry Potter things than normal people would own. As the sound was nothing of my concern, I slipped it out of my mind and began to prepare myself – mentally – for today's lessons.

My mother kissed me good-bye on the cheek, I grabbed my bag, entered my school and went to the library (one of the best places of the school) and studied until the bell had rung. When it did, I closed the book I was reading, seized my bag and walked towards the line already formed by some youngsters about my age. We went up some stairs and stepped into the classroom, where about two dozens of kids filled each and every one of the desks in it. Mrs. Alvarez, my homeroom and Spanish teacher, had shown up dressed, as always, with very fancy clothes and jewellery (today's fashion comprised of orange heels, a silver necklace with three eye-catching gems, fist-sized earrings, and a colourful striped skirt) . She was announcing the day of our next test. "Oh, great," I thought, because the day she chose was shortly after the day I was planning to go to the movies to see the new Harry Potter film with my friends. I looked at Stephanie and she had a face similar to mine. So, I thought it would be better if I studied for the test starting today.

Ten o'clock passed and I was in recess, one of my favourite periods at school (besides Algebra, English, History, Spanish, Religion and Science), just because I could chitchat with my friends without getting scolded. Jennifer, Stephanie and I were having a quite interesting conversation about Harry Potter, but Tatianna wasn't much into that kind of stuff. She was sort of the old-fashioned, 17th-century traditional girl. However, I liked her because she shared many of my interests, including reading. She was my best friend.

Our conversation broke off suddenly: the guidance counsellor was calling my name; I walked toward her and she leaded me into the office. Many of the kids standing by were saying things like "It's probably an F, Susanna," "The headmaster must want to talk to you about your dreadful grades," "Behaviour issues?" and "Why do you keep getting into problems?", but I ignored them all, because I knew they were just _pulling my leg_. When I got to the office, she handed me the phone. I apparently had a call from my mother — I answered quickly:

"Susanna, today I am going to be a bit late to pick you up because – er – the chorus is going to rehearse at 1:30 for tomorrow's wedding, so you stay in school until the time I come, ok?"

"Yes, mother, I will."

"It won't last more than an hour, I think. . ."

"Don't worry! I'll wait. I assure you I won't get bored, I have a lot of homework to do already!"

"Alright. Then bye, dear. Take care!"

"Good-bye, mom."

When I got back with my friends, they asked me what was all about; I told them it was nothing to worry about . . .

At long last it was half past one, time to end up school for today, and wait, as told, for my mother to pick me up. I loved school but the teachers had overwhelmed us with so many work today that I was eager to get home and rest a bit. Two and three o'clock passed so that there were no students left in my school, at least as far as my eyes could reach. I kept looking out, to see no cars passing by, so I decided that I would grab a pencil and start my homework early to make the most of time. _A snowy-white pigeon appeared in the tree by which I was working._

When I had almost finished with my Algebra homework, I hear a sound, a deep, noisy sound that resembled the one I had heard on my way to school . . . It was the sound of a car! I approached the school gates, looked out in every possible direction, hoping that my mother had arrived, but I was wrong, the street was completely deserted. I returned to the bench where I was doing my homework and continued to study. _A taller snowy-white pigeon arrived and sat down beside the other one._ Their behaviour was quite strange; it seemed almost as though they were discussing something important in _birdish_.

After a while the sound had gone, and I wasn't worried anymore, except by the fact that my mother had not yet arrived. Suddenly, another sound woke up my ears. But this time, it sounded like a large bird flapping its wings. I looked up, frowned and muttered "_This must be a joke_," when I saw that it was a screech owl carrying a paper on its feet, heading toward the bench I was sitting on, which was weird, because owls were not common in my country, much less common if they were carrying what seemed to be a letter. The owl landed on top of my books and, after I had recovered from the shock that followed the scene, I seized the letter attached to its legs. After I had the letter on my hands, the owl flew away; I was so stunned by the scene that I had not time to thank the owl or even say good-bye to it. The letter's envelope read:

Ms. S. Cecillia

The Bench Under the Tree

Saint George's School

Puerto Rico

"How strange," I thought to myself. I turned the letter over and saw an odd but familiar seal: It was a coat of arms divided in four: an animal in each of the spaces. In the first one there was a lion, in the second one, a snake; in the third, a badger; in the fourth, a raven; and in the very centre, the letter H. I completely knew where this letter had come from, but the mere fact that it had come to me was so weird that I almost couldn't believe it. This letter had come all the way from _Hogwarts_ onto my hands. I opened the envelope and read to myself: "_Dear Ms. Galicia: We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry . . . _"

Then, another shock came, while I thought: _I have been accepted at a magic school! But, isn't magic a made-up thing? Isn't magic based on scientific fundamentals and visual effects? Hold on. . . This must be a joke. . . Magic? Hogwarts? Impossible!_

_ But. . . What if this is serious and magic _does_exist? What if Dumbledore _do_ wants me in Hogwarts? What would happen to my family? Mom, Dad, my friends — I can't just go and leave without saying good-bye to them! And — what about school? I want to be a professional when I grow up! And — oh! Tomorrow I have three tests! I can't leave and fail all three! And what about my most treasured possessions? My books, my CD's, my clothes, my _laptop_! I can't possibly leave all this behind! And — oh no! What about sundays? I have to go to mass and thank God for everything! And — the orchestra! And — Oh, this is just awful. . ._

_ But Hogwarts is for people with magical talent — not muggle-born muggles with no magical talent at all like me. I have never _ever_ done something I could call magic. Not unless you call being able to stay silent during minutes at school as a magical ability. Anyway, if I got this letter, it means there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe I have not fully developed my magical abilities, and Hogwarts is just what I need to educate them._

_ Even so, how am I to get there? Hogwarts is thousands of miles from here! And — Oh, now that I remember, term starts tomorrow, September the first! There's no hope for me to find a plane that leaves for England before long! But if magic does exist, then I can get there in no time by using some special gadget, I'm sure. . ._

_ What am I thinking? I'm not even sure if all this is true! It's probably someone playing a joke on me. . . Someone who knows I'm a big Harry Potter fan. . . This is exactly the sort of joke that my friends would play on me. . .Yes, that's probably what's going on — someone who wants to have a little of fun by making me believe that magic exists and that —_

My thoughts broke off, for the sound of a car had appeared again. I dashed toward the gates of the school. Again, there was nothing there, but as I headed onto my workspace, I saw that the source of the sound was right on top of me, and a third shock struck me (I wondered why I had not received a heart attack yet): A light-blue car was flying over the school grounds, looking for a place to set down and, spotting the courtyard, lowered itself landing safely on it. "_God, help me! This _has_ to be a dream!_"_The two snowy pigeons flew away to the north. I didn't know why, but their departure made me feel vulnerable, lonely and sad._ I could now clearly see the car labelled Ford Anglia and its plaque — located on the back side — labelled 7990 TD. Three red dots and a brown one were visible through the car's windows, and I realized they were Ron, Fred, George, and another boy, perhaps Percy. They were getting out of the car by now. "_Oh, this has simply got to be a dream!_"

"Hello!" said the youngest brother looking self-respectful. "I'm Ron."

"And we're Fred —"

" — And George," said the twins as one. "And we are the family pride."

"Right . . . " said Ron with a sarcastic look on his face. In that moment, the fact that all the Weasleys were red-haired came to me, and then I knew that the one in the car couldn't be Percy. But before the name of the person that I thought was in the car reached my brain's central station, another person had said it. "Anyway, this is Harry. . . .", he said dashing toward the car, snatching a boy's arm and pulling him out of his seat.

I was dumbstruck in amazement. Harry was more handsome in real life than he was in posters or movies. I didn't move or say anything. I was just there standing petrified face to face with the boy that haunted my dreams. His eyes were as blue as the sky in a sunny day, and his hair as dark as a cloudless, moonless night.

"Hello," said the boy, and his words drowned me even more into the shock; I loved his English accent.

"Hi," I said, not looking at Harry, because if I did it I wouldn't have been able to talk to him. Also, I was trying not to sound delirious or nervous, because that was precisely the way I was feeling at the moment.

"Thou must certainly be Thy Royal Highness Queen Susan of Richport, Pearl of the Caribbean, island of outstanding beauty, the daughter of the Sun and the Sea. It pleases me greatly to be at thy presence, Your Majesty," said George, kneeling and kissing my hand. Then he stood up and received a nudge from Ron. "Er — I mean — Are you Susanna? "

"Yes," I said, giggling but still avoiding Harry's gaze.

"And is Your Oh So Majestic Highness prepared for a long and exciting journey full of adventure, beasts and warriors of supreme calibre?" said Fred, doing just as George had done.

"Just tell her where we're going to take her!" said Ron furiously.

"Oh, sorry, we were just trying to be decent to her!" said Fred, standing up and cleaning his knees from dirt.

"Decent? By making her believe that we're from the tenth century? She's going to think she's mental or something — or, more likely, that you're mental!" Ron said.

"I think he's been spending too much time with Hermione, don't you think, Fred?" said George. Fred nodded.

"N-No, not really," said Ron, blushing while his ears turned red.

"Well, then go on! Tell her yourself."

"No, I'm not telling her. . ."

"Ron, I don't think you've realized she's hearing every word we speak."

"Yeah, I've noticed!" he snapped. "I don't mind her thinking I'm a stupid maniac."

"Please, Ron, I really want to hear whatever you have to say," I said suddenly. Ron hesitated for a moment.

"Well, if you put it that way, I guess I'll have to tell you,"— he cleared his throat — "Dad told us that he received an owl from Dumbledore telling him that he wants us to pick you up and take you to Hogwarts with us this year."

There was a five-second pause and then I said, "Really?" I tried not to sound overexcited now. "Why?"

"Wait! Waity, waity! Hold it, hold it! She doesn't have _a clue_ of what you're talking about, Ron. Hullo! Did you forget she's a muggle?" said George, slightly worried. "Muggle. . . You know. . . 'Non-magic folk', according to Hagrid's encyclopaedia . . ." The know-it-all Susanna was saying, _Yes, yes, I _am_ a muggle, but that doesn't mean I'm brainless. I _do_ know what he's talking about! I'm smart enough to know that!_

"No, I haven't forgotten. But, then, what do you want me to say?" asked Ron, angrily.

"Obviously all about you-know-what!" said Fred, angrier than Ron.

"What about what?" asked Ron, his mind apparently in blank. Even I was guessing what the twins wanted Ron to tell me about: magic.

"Obviously all about magic!" said George _matter-of-factly_.

"Oh — yeah! Don't worry, I'm a pro at that!," Ron said, excitedly. Fred and his twin brother exchanged looks of disbelief. He sighed deeply and then asked me: "Do you know anything about magic?"

"Of course — " I began, preparing to say that I _did_ know, but Fred interrupted me.

"Of course she doesn't! She's a muggle! Hello! Do you want me to repeat it again? Muggle — non-magic person! She probably hasn't even heard the term before!" The know-it-all Susanna rapidly bursted inside me once again: _Tsk, of course I do! Do you think I'm a stupid person?_

"So that means that I have to explain her every nook and cranny about magic?" asked Ron, looking frightened.

"No, no, just tell her the basics," said George.

"And what exactly are the basics of magic?" asked Ron; I couldn't believe my ears.

"I thought you were a pro at that, Ronnie," said Fred.

"Yeah, you tell her, you're the one who got interested in inviting her to Hogwarts."

"No, I wasn't, it was you two who wanted to come and get her — "

"Liar! Actually we're forgetting that Dad is the one who started all this."

"Actually, it was Dumbledore," said Harry suddenly, looking at the watch on his wrist. "And if you guys didn't notice, it's getting late — "

"Yeah okay!" said Ron, followed by a deep sigh that made me think that Ron didn't like explaining very much. "Here it goes: Susanna, I am cheerful to tell you that you can lift yourself up and float in midair, transform a thing into another, disappear and appear in another place, to defend yourself from enemies, or whatever that may have appeared in a dream of yours. In other words — magic exists." He looked at the twins and whispered, "Is that okay?"

"Fair," they whispered in unison.

"I'm impressed," I said, and if I had been a cartoon, my jaw would probably be falling gradually towards the ground by now. Although Ron's words were something I was expecting him to say since they had all arrived, they took me aback as if it were the first time I was hearing them — well, yes, it was the first time. . .

"And so, you are welcomed to join us in our journey to Hogwarts — a school of magic — and stay in the school as well," said George.

"Surely? That's fantastic! But — what about the things I need — "

"Good, good! Glad you asked!" said Fred happily. "George, if you please . . . Do the honours. . ."

" 'Course, mate," said George, opening the back of the car and showing us all a yellowish trunk with a golden S and a C.

"Is that supposed to be my trunk?" I asked rhetorically, amazed.

"Why, no. . . Unfortunately that's for another student. . . The letters stand for Slow-witted Creature, see. . ." said George ironically, pointing at the letters with his index finger.

"But George," said Fred, frowning. "I thought it was for a muggle girl called Susanna Cecillia which was coming to Hogwarts this year with us. . ."

"But. . . Isn't Susanna Cecillia the girl we're talking to? The one we have in front of our fair noses?"

"Precisely!" said Fred.

"Do you mean to say that this trunk over here is Susanna's?" asked George. Fred nodded. "Ooh . . . ! Sorry Susanna, my bad . . . It _is_ yours after all . . ."

"Thank you so much! And is everything I need in the trunk?" I asked.

"No," said Fred. "_Almost_ everything is in that big baby, but not everything. . . Ron can tell you exactly what's in there and what's left, can't you Ron?"

"Why do I have to do everything you say?!" Ron asked, angrily.

"Whoa, don't go baddy-baddy with us Ron, we know you're a good boy. Now read the list you have there," George said.

"Okay! In a minute!" he said, furiously, then muttered under his breath so that only Harry and I could hear, "_I'm sick of this_." He searched his trouser's pockets for some seconds and then retrieved a paper in a condition that suggested that it had been passed through a very complicated process, which I reckoned involved — at least — one of the following: lying in the floor for some time, meanwhile, being stepped on by dirty shoes, being used as a bludger for quidditch or being chewed by a troll or else being smashed by its club more than two times. "Okay, all the course books you need are in here, according to the list. . .

_ The Standard Book of Spells_, Grade 4

_ Four Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

_ Magical Defence for the Fourth-Year student_

Do I have to read them all?" Ron asked, uttering a yawn.

"May I see the paper to take a look at the books' titles so you won't have to read them all aloud and then become bored and weary and so be unable to go to school tomorrow in a decent mood and then blame me because all of your energies had worn off because of my wanting you to read all of the titles for me?" I asked, at 150 words per minute, which meant that I had said all this in about ten seconds. "Please?" I added gently.

"Whawazzat?" said Ron, confused. Everyone laughed except me. I still hadn't realized the speed at which I had stated the previous question.

"Honestly, Susanna, could you have gone _any_faster?" said Fred. "_Zoom_!!"

"Yeah! Can you repeat that again? More slowly?" asked Ron.

"She said that the book titles are boring — " said Fred, dramatizing a yawn.

"And that you better go to school tomorrow in a decent mood or else she's going to make you read all those titles aloud again," George said, shaking his finger, pointed toward Ron. "And that — Did you also hear what I heard, Fred?"

"What did you hear, George?" George whispered into Fred's right ear. When he had finished he snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "Just what I heard too! And she also said that — " both said — "_She likes you_." Harry snorted while Ron blushed.

"Seriously, what did you say, Susandna?" said Ron, still as red as a tomato.

"Ok, ok Ron, you caught us. . . What she really said was that she _wants_ you," said Fred. "But that's, like — the same. . ."

"I don't remember exactly, but the point was if you could let me see the paper so you wouldn't — if I could see the paper," I said finally, so we wouldn't have to go through the same problem of not being able to understand my words. A voice in my ear said, _why didn't you think of that earlier, huh? Much more reasonable considering all the circumstances. . ._

"_No_!" Ron roared. "I mean. . .no," he repeated, more softly. "Er, I will finish — reading — now:

_ A History of Magic: How It Arose and How It has Evolved Across Time_

_ Magical, Healing and Poisonous Properties of Potions and How to Produce Them_

_ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

_ Quidditch Through the Ages_

_ Principles and Explorations of Divination_

Plus, there are plenty of quills, ink bottles, rolls of parchment and Potion ingredients that will be necessary, especially in Snape's class."

"So, why am I coming to Hogwarts with you?" I asked.

"Er. . . Say! I've not thought about that. I think Dad didn't even mention. . . Or has he?"

"Good question, mate," said George.

"Don't look at me. I've no idea!" said Fred.

"Hm, guess you'll have to ask him when we get home."

"To your house?" I asked.

"Of course! What does _home_ mean to you?"

"Today?"

"Obviously, we don't want to be late for school tomorrow."

"But — what about — "

"Your stuff? Your family? Your things don't have legs, do they? Your family doesn't leave Puerto Rico often, do they?"

"I guess not."

"Then you've got nothing to worry about. Everything that's here will stay here, won't it? It's likethat_Vegas_bloke. . . You know. . . '_What happens here, stays here_'," then he snorted between laughs (I was reminded of _Betty the Ugly_ and _Miss Congeniality_). How did George know about muggle commercials? "It's not as if you'll stay in Hogwarts your whole life, is it? When you come back you — "

"Yeah, yeah, she got the point perfectly, haven't you, Your Majesty?" Fred asked me. I remained silent. "Oh, don't tell me you're still thinking about what will happen when you leave?" I nodded timidly.

"Look," said George, "Let me put it this way: You're a miserable girl that lives in the Muggle world — "

"Just like us," interrupted Fred.

"Exactly — just like us. Then we come all the way from Europe — just as knights — to rescue you from this horrible world — just like a story from the Medieval Age," explained George. Fred repeated the last statement: "Just like a story from the Medieval Age." I still had my mouth closed; I was still not sure of leaving Puerto Rico.

"But — if term starts tomorrow, then we only have a few hours left to get all the things I need for Hogwarts! And if you subtract the time it takes to get there, the time we'll need to rest, and the four hours from here to England, then we'll have hardly three hours to get everything!"

"Such a smart girl — " I blushed. "But so _stupid_ at the same time," I blushed once again. "First of all, we already have one of those covered: we might not get to England in time by the flying car, _but_ — by using the Apparition spell, then England is just a jiffy away. Lee Jordan lent me a book for learning Apparition; I've been practising and, well, I think I do it pretty well."

"Of _course_ you do!" said Ron critically.

"Ron, could you _please_ shut your mouth?!" George pretended zipping his own mouth.

"What about that ugly old bloke who tried to Apparate into the Leaky Cauldron? The only thing he managed to do was to leave his legs on the train station and the rest of his body in the pub!" Ron said, crossing his arms.

"Told you — Hermione's been acting upon him." Ron instantly loosened his arms.

"_Old bloke_, Ron. He was _ancient_, he was. Precambrian!"

"Don't you _care_?" said Ron, ignoring both Fred's and George's comments.

"Ron's right, George. We could be all risking ourselves," said Harry. George seemed to be ruminating about this remark.

"Yeah but — "

"Mark my words —" said Ron, "We'll be Splinched if you try to Apparate — And then you'll be regretting you didn't do what I — "

"Stop it, you two! Please?" I said abruptly; I even got a bit afraid of myself. I coughed slightly and dragged my hair back. About a second or two later, they had stopped quarrelling. George sighed.

"Let's head on to the Burrow, shall we?" he said.

"We've better let her choose," said Fred, and then added in a whisper, "I'm sure she will accept Apparition." George nodded excitedly.

"I'm — I'm sorry, George, I can't let you," I said, before anyone could do anything. I was making calculations during Ron and George's wrangle about the age George had. If they were correct, George was 16, and therefore could not have a license for Apparating. "You're not old enough to Apparate."

"Um. . . Er. . . Hmm. . ." said George, looking for words to throw back at me. After some moments, he muttered, "How does she know?!" covered his face in his hands and hugged Fred, trying to sound as though he was crying.

"Hey!" said Ron, frowning and constantly shaking his finger towards George, "She's right! You're not old enough to have a licence! How could I have forgotten. . . ?" and he brought his hand up to his chin in a thoughtful way.

"Don't worry, George," said Fred consolingly, in a brother-to-brother tone, "You did the best you could. Besides, we'll have plenty of time to practise when we're older. . ." and he put a hand over his shoulder.

"Yes, I reckon we'll have," said George, drying his 'tears' with the back of his hand, in a tone that indicated he was feeling better. "And now that I come to think of it, I wouldn't enjoy a romantic evening with the dementors at Azkaban."

"No, no one would!" said Ron, looking relieved.

"But I'm sure George would have them crazy before they could even start driving _him_ crazy," said Fred.

"Hey! I know I'm handsome, but not _that_ much," said George, untangling his ginger hair with his fingers.

"But why would he be taken to the wizard prison by simply Splinching accidentally? It's not as if he chose to Splinch himself!" I said convincingly.

Ron grinned and said, "You take in words too seriously, Susanna. It's a matter of speech!"

"Yeah, we were just joking, you know — but how do you know about Azkaban?" George asked suspiciously.

"And who taught you about Wizard law? Margaret Thatcher?" asked Fred.

"That's not exactly crucial right now, is it? Why don't we go to your place? Harry's right, it's getting late."

"Well, the thing is, Susanna, we don't really have the kind of transportation that can take us to England in a jiffy. . . Discarding _underage_ Apparition, that is," said Fred, kicking a stone with his right foot. It hit Harry's hand and he said, "Ouch!"

"Sorry, Harry!" Fred apologized. There were a few more stones on the floor but he did not dare kick another one, in case it happened again.

"We can't take the car — it took us 8 hours to get here — we'll arrive when it's time to board on the Hogwarts Express —"

"Eight hours?" I asked, shocked. That was what it took for a plane to travel from here to Spain. "How did you surv — What did you do in 8 hours?"

"Well, the car drove itself, so we slept."

"You slept in the car?" I asked, astonished (it's not that I considered that uncivilized or that I have never done it or had never heard of someone doing it, but the fact that all of these boys had crossed the Atlantic Ocean in a flying car was admirable). I was thinking whether to burst out '_That is so gallant of you_,' '_How cool!_' or '_Were you out of your proper mind? You could have frozen to death!_', but at last, I realized that none of these would come out of my mouth.

No one spoke for several seconds, until —

"Hold on; I have a _Portkey_ around here somewhere. . . ." said George, searching inside his trousers, "Ha! Here it is. . ." and he showed us a filthy, damaged battery, covered in a thick cloth. "A muggle left it in the bin while we were leaving King's Cross last summer. Dad says it is called a buttery, but I just can't see how it's got to do with my favourite food — butter toasts, by the way . . .It smells like toast, but it doesn't taste so good." I was about to correct him when —

"Battery, George," Ron corrected. "I've heard Hermione say that when she talks about Muggles. She says that it powers some gadgets that we power with magic, but that eventually they run out of power."

"Interesting. . . It seems it gave all it could, I mean, why else could this be on the trash pile if it is so important for the Muggles? Anyway, Dad took it to the Ministry and they made it a _Portkey_. Very useful it has turned out to be, hasn't it, Fred?" Fred was kneeling besides my bag, looking eagerly at my pencil case. "_Fred_?!" George repeated. Fred started and instantly got to his feet, as if nothing had happened.

"Oh, yeah, very useful. . ."

"We'd used it so many times Dad was getting tired of taking it to the Ministry, so the last time he went, he asked them to make it _Portpetual_, so it can be used over, and over, and over, and over — "

"Okay, George we get it. Well, I think we can all now go to the Burrow without worries, Susanna," said Ron settling the previously discussed topic.

"I — " I began.

"_SUSANNA_! Everything will be fine! Don't you trust us?"

"Yes, I do," I said, not very sure of what I was saying.

"Then come _on_! Hogwarts awaits!" _Wow, that is sooo dramatic_, I thought.

"Wouldn't I be needing money?"

"Er. . . Let's say that money is not your business, all right? _We will treat_," said George.

"Oh, how can I ever thank you all?" I said, and I couldn't be any happier.

"Promise us you will not complain about anything from now on, that you will always trust us, no matter what," said Fred.

Although I knew I had to be careful when trusting Fred and George, because of their_sometimes-amusing-but-often-dangerous_ ideas, and because I knew we would be wasting time if I began discussing this, I sighed and said, "I promise." Then one of the Susannas inside me yelled. It was speaking with a pronounced English accent: _Aah! Why did you do that! Are you out of your mind! Did you know what you just did! You have just risked your reputation! And that's not all, Susanna, you can get in trouble with that pair of clowns. If I were you — oops, I am you, haha! — I had said NO, I CAN'T PROMISE THAT. You've just shown me how naive you are, Susanna. I am very, VERY disappointed. . ._

"Okay, everybody listen: We should all be able to touch at least a bit of this thingamajig: even that works. Just make sure that we all touch it at the same time — "

"George, what about the car?" I asked. "Wouldn't it be better to hide it somewhere?"

"Susanna, Susanna, Susanna. . . What did I tell you about trusting us? That car there possesses highly magical qualities! He can find the way home on his own! Look," — he whistled — "hey Angelie! You can go home, now, but be sure to use the Invisibility Booster!"

"Angelie?" Harry asked.

"That's what Dad calls him." The car made a strange sound, began ascending and when it was about six metres above ground, it became invisible.

"Anything else you're worried about?" asked George.

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot!" I put all the books inside my bag, and swung it over my back. "Ready."

"What's that for? You might just as well leave it here!" said Fred. "You won't be needing it!"

"I probably won't. Still, I want to take it with me."

"Fine! It's your bag! Okay, as we are five, we will divide in three at one side of the battery; two at the other. Weasleys — this side; you two — the other." When he said this, I became nervous; that meant I was going to be next to Harry; I tried not to think about it. "Now, when I say three, we touch the battery at the same time, all right?" Everyone nodded except me. I raised my hand and instantly lowered it, reminding myself there was no need to, as no one around me was a teacher — that battery was leaking — if everyone touched it, all of our hands would burn due to the battery's acid's contact with the skin. "George," I said. "Is there something you can do to — to clean that battery?"

"_That's not exactly crucial right now, is it_?" George mimicked, in a high-pitched voice. I blushed once again. "Susy, you can absolutely wash your hands when we get there."

"But, the battery's leaking a liquid that can be harmful to our hands — I'm not really worried about staining my hands, if that's why you're being so unfavourable toward my suggestion."

"Oh, okay," George said. "_Phew_! I thought you were like my brother's girlfriend. She's frightful, y'know — _'George, could you pleez clean ze chair where I am going to seat? It eez very dusty and 'orrible — Fred, pleez clean zis for me — Bill, zis; Bill zat.'_ She'll drive us mad. I don't know what Bill saw in her, but if he marries her, he'll be the one cleaning _ze_ dishes."

"Perhaps Bill loves 'ze little french voice she 'as?" Fred proposed.

Everyone except Ron laughed, in fact, he looked somewhat offended. "At least she says _pleez_! She's got manners, can't you appreciate that?"

"Oh, Ronnie, everyone knows you fancy her, that's why you support her all the time!" Ron remained quiet. "Now, let's not delay our departure more, it's past seven back in England," he said, looking at his watch. "_Tergeo_!" he said, pointing the battery with his wand. The battery was cleansed from the acid, so that it looked new. "Everyone, get ready. . .One. . . Two. . . Three!"

We touched the _Portkey_ at the time George indicated and, instantly, our feet left the floor, and we began to swirl uncontrollably. A desire to throw up possessed me. I was starting to feel headache, but the fact that I was going to a place I was completely sure didn't exist, with a group of people that I knew were fictitious, melted that pain far, far away.


	2. The Burrow

**Chapter Two: The Burrow**

Just when the whirling stopped we had landed aggressively on the Weasley's garden. George had unfortunately landed on top of some beautiful flowers; Fred and Ron were stepping on some weeds, Harry was gripping the fence tightly and I was behind some bushes. It was a multi-story home that looked as if it was about to fall. George got to his feet and shook the dirt out of his clothes. Someone opened the door from the kitchen and a plump, red-haired woman appeared below the doorframe.

"That is the" – she paused for a moment, thinking, then continued – "ninth time you've landed on my daffodils, young man! If you are not careful next time, I should have to — " she stopped when I stood up. "Oh, hello! You must be Susanna!" She went down the garden steps. "Welcome, dear, welcome! Feel yourself at home!" I had barely walked a step when she said these words.

So we began to walk through the garden and toward the house; meanwhile, I was looking at my left and right, where beautiful landscapes were visible in the horizon; the land was not green, but it still had some sort of beauty in it; the sun shone through a dense thicket of fir trees. Mrs. Weasley didn't scold George again; she seemed to have forgotten that her daffodils were all squashed. Having reached the interior of the house, I could see that it was a rather nice one; it had things that a normal house would have, just with a few exceptions, like a clock that pointed out where were each of the family members (either at home, work or mortal peril, to name just a few), a pair of needles that wove needlessly of help, pots that cleaned themselves in the kitchen sink and a few other things working on magic.

"Ginny! Get down here! We've got visitors!" shouted Mrs. Weasley lightheartedly, standing at the feet of the stairs. "In a minute, Mum," Ginny cried, from an upper floor.

Mrs. Weasley looked me over intently with a concerned look on her face. "Oh dear, you look thinner than Harry did when he first came here. Why don't you eat something?"

Ron quickly interrupted his mother. "But, Mum, she has to get her stuff at Diagon Alley! She has still her wand, pet and robes left to buy! She hasn't the time to eat!"

"Of course she has the time, Ronald. We will all eat before they leave this house. Go on, everyone, sit at the table and wait until dinner's ready."

"They? Who?"

"George and Susanna, of course," now Mrs. Weasley approached the stove and used a curved wand on top of a counter at her right to light it; Ginny appeared.

"But, why him? Can't I go too?" he asked, childishly. "Can't we all go?" he added, maybe because 'Can't I go too' sounded a bit selfish.

"As you know, your father, Bill, Charlie and Percy are at work," she said, while she summoned a saucepan and it came flying to her immediately. "I will stay here to take care of you; George is the eldest of you five — counting Harry, of course — which is why he is going with Susanna. We can't go with them because the streets at Diagon Alley are presently flooded with wizards; that would make it harder to stay together and still get to every shop needed. And we will lose a lot of time, especially if Ginny goes," she glanced at her. "You know how much she likes to stay hours and hours in front of the windows. Now, go sit at the table."

"But, Mum, it's seven thirty — "

"And two hours are more than enough to get three things, aren't they, dear?" she asked me. I nodded agreeably. She was now stirring a pot with her wand. "See Ron? Now sit there and wait until I serve dinner."

"But, mum, George is. . . Do you trust him?" Ron asked, tentatively.

This made Mrs. Weasley think for a minute and stop moving her wand. "Of course I do, I trust all of you."

We went out to join the others at the table. Fred and George were trying to make Ginny pull their fingers; Harry was observing the sky; Ron had left the kitchen at the same time as I did. He sat at Harry's right and I ended up right next to George.

"Hiya, Harry! Anything interesting happened at your place this summer?" Ron asked.

"If you count my scar hurting, Aunt Marge coming over for dinner every Friday and eating Asparagus soup for breakfast as interesting, then yes, I had a _thriving _summer. . ."

Fred and George snorted — Fred murmured, "_Hilarious!_" — while the rest remained silent, and the sound of an animal I had never heard before — obviously a magical creature — was the only thing heard at that moment. It would have been the equivalent of the _coqui_ in my country. The twins stopped laughing, realizing that what Harry had said wasn't so hilarious at all and said, at a very low voice, "Sorry, Harry, but your sarcasm is excellent". Pain in the forehead, starting the day with a not-so-tasty-food-for-the-majority-of-normal-people and having an insensitive aunt and her beer-drinking dog over at one's house wasn't good, as far as I knew.

Then, another sound broke the silence: Mr. Weasley had arrived, carrying a case on his left hand and a hat in the other.

"Good evening, boys!" He said, spotting Fred, George and Harry. Instantly, Ginny turned over and _hem-hemmed_ and then he said, " er — family", Ginny said, "Dad!!" and pointed at me; I smiled, waved at him and said, "Good evening, Mr. Weasley!" then, finally blushing, he said "— people. . ."

"Dad doesn't think properly after work," said George. "It's a fact."

"He once thought _I_ was George! Ha, ha! Imagine that! What dolt would do that!" said Fred, without knowing that her mother was standing right beside him with a chicken on her mitten-covered hands and was looking very serious. Fred noticed our faces and knew that something was not right; he turned his head. "Oh, hullo mum! Say. . . That chicken smells exceptionally good! Doesn't it, Ginny?"

"I'm not covering for you," she said coldly.

"She means it smells good, don't you, Gin — " Mrs. Weasley almost threw the chicken to the table, used her wand at Fred's mouth and muttered _Glus!_ His lips were stuck together, something that made his mouth look funny.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW DISTURBING IS BEING CALLED DOLT?! IS THAT HOW YOU SHOW RESPECT TOWARD YOUR SUPERIORS?! TOWARD YOUR FATHER!! WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO CALL YOU STUPID?!" Fred nodded, closing his eyes. "NO, RIGHT? THEN DON'T CALL YOUR FATHER A DOLT! DO YOU PROMISE ME THAT YOU WILL NOT CALL ANYONE SOMETHING THAT CAN MAKE THEM FEEL NEGATIVE ABOUT THEMSELVES?" Fred nodded quickly, many times up and down; he looked like a bobble-head toy. "ARE YOU REALLY?" He nodded once more. "Well, to make sure you will keep your promise, that pair of lips is going to stay together until dinner's over. No chicken."

"Nn Hgknn??" complained Fred.

"Oh, yes, sorry, I meant to say no food until tomorrow."

"_MmnnN_!?" Fred hummed. Mrs. Weasley looked at George as though he were partly responsible for what had happened, then she went back to the kitchen, fuming. Fred looked at us.

Ginny said, "Don't look at me, I'm not reversing that spell! Besides, if Mum sees you've got your lips apart from each other, she'll glue them again." Fred moaned. "Don't you see? There's nothing we can do about it. . .Except perhaps forcing the food through your ears, though maybe you wouldn't like that."

Everyone nodded approvingly. Shortly after, Mr. and Mrs. Wealey arrived at the table, said a prayer and we all began to eat, except Fred, of course, who had his lips glued, his arms crossed, and was looking intently at the food on the table.

"So, Cezanne, where do you come from? France, I presume?" asked Mr. Weasley, cutting the piece of chicken on his plate. Mrs. Weasley corrected him, "It's Susanna, Arthur." Then he said, "Yes, Susanna, that's what I meant."

"From Puerto Rico, though many people suppose our forefathers came from France, taking into account my second last name, but my father is Italian, from which I got Cecillia," noticing Mr. Weasley's perplexed face, I added, "Oh, Puerto Rico it's a small island in the Caribbean in the American continent."

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Been studying magic over there?"

"No. Actually, I'm a muggle," I said.

"Oh — yes, that's right; then you must have all sorts of interesting things in your home like batteries, spark plugs, light bulbs, bicycles, and screwdrivers!"

"Yes, we have," I smiled, cutting the turkey into little pieces.

"It must be amazing. . . Maybe I'll go sometime. . ." said Ron's father, with a dreamy look.

While Mr. Weasley was telling me about his work and what he knew about muggle artifacts, I heard George asking Harry some – er – interesting questions. Even though Fred couldn't get into conversation, he was paying much attention.

"What do you think about her?"; "Do you like her?"; "I think she likes you"; "Did you notice she never looked at you?" but none of the questions did Harry answer.

"Ah, you don't want to tell us?" ; "We're the closest of friends!"; "Don't be shy!"; "That's part of life. . ."

I was paying so much attention to their conversation that I had no idea what Mr. Weasley was talking about when he asked me, "Are you going to finish it?"

"Finish. . .What? School?"

"No, your food," he smiled.

"Oh, yes, yes," then, when I saw everyone had finished already I added, "I'm very slow at eating." And it was true; I could count the average times per week I had finished my plate in less than 20 minutes with one hand.

When I finished my food, Mrs. Weasley said, "Give it here, dear," I handed over the dish, glass and cutlery. "Now, go to Ginny's room; she's looking for a spare witch robes for you to wear to Diagon Alley. When you finish putting them on, give me those clothes, I'm going to wash them."

"All right," I said, and hurried off to Ginny's room. It had two small beds and a dresser. Ginny was kneeling at the foot of the dresser, holding robes that I supposed were the ones I was going to wear now. She had not noticed I was below the door frame. "May I enter?"

Ginny started, and turned her head "Of course!". I entered the room and she gave me the witch robes. "You can change in the bathroom, it's over there," she said, pointing to the next room.

"Thank you," and I went to the bathroom to change. When I finished, I went down the stairs — George was already there, waiting — and handed my uniform to Mrs. Weasley, who was now transfigurating the food in Fred's plate into small plants and flowers.

"Thank you, dear," she said. "_Herbivicus._"

I stared at the plants for a moment; considering the fact that throwing away food is a thing I hated to do and that plants are excellent for the welfare of our environment, I said, "That's a very clever idea, Mrs. Weasley."

"Well, thank you!" she said. "I'm turning them into daffodils, to replace the ones _George_ ruined," and she threw a very nasty look at him. "Now go with George to Diagon Alley, but try to get back soon, all right?"

"Oh, Mrs. Weasley I would like to help you put those flowers in place but — "

"Yes, I'm sure — but go, go! It's nine o' clock already!"

"Already!? Then see you later Mrs. Weasley!" and I went out toward George; I wondered how were we going to get there.

"_Portkey_ again, Sue," he said, as if he had read my mind; this time it was a pin in the shape of a motorbike. "Ready?" he asked. I nodded. "One. . .Two. . . Three!" At three, we both touched the pin, and after ten seconds of swirling madness, we arrived at a street I knew belonged to Diagon Alley.


	3. Diagon Alley

**Chapter three: Diagon Alley**

So, where should we go first?" I said, straightening up and checking to see if my hair was not very frizzy.

"Well, taking into account that Ollivander's Wand Shop's over there. . ." said George dully, pointing at a narrow and shabby shop at our right, then using the same hand to scratch the back of his neck, "We could start out by buying you a wand."

We headed toward the shop, George pushed the door open and we stepped into the shop where an old man with wide pale eyes was talking to —

"See there?" said George, pointing at a man with long blonde hair tightened in a ponytail. "That's Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father. Purely detestable, he is. He's like a skrewt, but with blonde hair, y'know. And his son's just as adorable."

"Yes, I _know_ who he is," I said in a bold tone.

"Yes, sure you do. . ." he said, as if he didn't believe me."Blimey! _He's_ here too!" he said loudly, aiming his forefinger at a boy with a pointed face, just like his father's, who was gazing at a group of small boxes. He yelled so loudly that, with any mistake, the witches and wizards outside the store had also heard him.

"Be quiet! He'll hear us!" I whispered. And as if actually he had heard us, Draco Malfoy headed toward us.

"Well, look who it is!" said the boy with an _I-am-the-last-coca-cola-in-the-desert_ grimace. "One of the pathetic red-haired Weasley twins!"

"Aha, yes, but I bet you a thousand Galleons that you don't know which one! I doubt you'll get it right, with your teensy-weensy little brain. . ."

"I don't care, Weasley. Besides, if I win, how are you going to pay for all that? Beans, perhaps? Don't risk your pocket, Weasley, for your own good I'll say. . . Now, as I was saying, I notice you have a girlfriend!"

"Are you nuts? Did you think that I was going to have a bushy-brown-headed-matching-stick as my girlfriend? You are bonkers truly indeed, Malfunction-head!" said George, winking at me when Draco glimpsed at his father.

"Dare insult me like that again and I'll tell Father," said Malfoy, throwing a glance at his father and pretending to call him.

"Oh, is Mr. Malfoy almighty going to cut my head in two? Oh, I'm deadly scared of baby Draco's hero!"

"Shut up, Weasley," said Malfoy, and followed his father who had finished his conversation with Mr. Ollivander. He glanced at us one more time and said, "Better improve that behaviour of yours, Weasley, or else you're find yourself facing trouble — See you at school."

Mr. Ollivander spotted us and greeted us.

"Well, hello! Er. . . Fred?" he said doubtfully over a stack of boxes, which unmistakably contained wands of different ingredients.

"George, actually," George corrected him. "And she's Susanna, new to Hogwarts this year. . ." I nodded and smiled sympathetically towards Mr. Ollivander.

"Ah! Also from the family?"

"Well, not exactly. . ." George said, a bit nervously; then he pointed my hair. "See? No red hair."

"In that case. . . Very well, then, let me see. . ." he said, using a spell to put the stack of boxes he had in front back to their places and walking toward a pile in the opposite side of the room. He reached for the box on top and opened it. "Ah, yes. . . Nine and a quarter inches long, maple and dragon heartstring; try it."

He handed me the wand and I grabbed it. I gave it a wave but stopped when I saw it was doing no good: Mr. Ollivander's gray hair was standing on end, but luckily he didn't notice. George snorted. Mr. Ollivander presumed that nothing had happened and gave me another wand. This wand's box was covered in dust and spider webs. "Ten and a half inches long, ebony and unicorn hair. I — er — hope it works for you."

Suddenly, when I took the wand, sparks began shooting out from its end and a breeze of fresh air entered the room. We then realized that the wand had chosen me. I began examining the wand carefully and noticed an odd carving, some animal perhaps, but it was hard to make up its shape. Also, it had a small wave near the end. With any doubt, this wand was much more than a hundred years old. I put it back into its box.

"Excellent, excellent!" exclaimed Mr. Ollivander excitedly, clapping his hands.

I was going to ask George how I was to pay for the wand, when I saw that he was already handing seven galleons to Mr. Ollivander. When he finished paying, we headed toward the door, but Mr. Ollivander prevented it.

"Excuse me, can I have a word with young Susanna?" He beckoned at me. I exchanged blank glimpses with George, and approached Mr. Ollivander. He bended over so that we were so close I got a bit afraid. He whispered, "This wand you have on your hands is one of the best I have, you know? But no one's ever managed a proper spell with it. Just one other witch, a little older than yourself, bought it here, many, many years ago, and returned it shortly later. But it wasn't because it didn't work; no, according to her, she had never had such an efficient wand on her hands before. Their parents were muggles, and when they saw her with a wand, they wanted to get rid of it. The girl didn't want the wand to be destroyed so she, on her own account, turned it back, with tears on her eyes. The girl had grown such a strong bond between the wand and herself that it was as though she was lamenting the death of a loved one." _Oh, please, how can that be_. . . I thought. The study-girl Susanna said: _Shush! This is interesting!_

"I do not wish you to turn it back either; on the contrary, I want you to keep it because I know you'll make good use of it. Use it well, as I expect you'll do, to protect yourself from dark enemies and dangers; or, instead, use it incorrectly, for the harm of others, as You-Know-Who has done and you will find your life has been cursed."

"But sir, how could she have said that she'd never had such a good wand, if their parents didn't let her use them?"

"See, this girl, since the age of birth, had been identified with the qualities of a witch, so at age eleven she was asked to attend a school of Magic. Thus, she was so excited she left her house, asked a wizard to bring her to Diagon Alley and bought a wand here. When she returned to her house, their parents were terrified, not only because she had left her home, also because they were Wizard-haters. They instantly broke the wand in two and burned all the letters regarding the school of Magic she was to attend. Nevertheless, she continued to buy wands and managing spells with the help of a very good book she bought at Flourish and Blotts, but her parents continued to smash them into pieces until she bought this one at age eighteen. She returned to her home with the wand avoiding her parents' looks. She managed to use it many times — although not many days —, by which time she was aware of the Apparating spell. One of those days, her parents found her transfigurating her mother's ficus into a Venomous Tentacula, but before they could snatch the wand out of her, she had Dissaparated."

"And that was when she came here and returned it?"

"Yes, indeed. She was afraid someone — particularly her parents — would steal her wand and break it; she said she preferred not to do magic rather than risking such a good wand; she said it was best that the wand be used by someone else who needed it more than her, who could make better use of it, and who could use it without taking risks."

"But, sir, how come she didn't go to the school by herself? Why didn't she talk with her parents about what she wanted to be? And, how come the Ministry didn't notice there was magic happening inside the house?"

"Oh, she tried many times to convince them. Every time as unlucky as the other. She did not go to the school by herself because the same love she had for magic she had it for her parents, no matter how bad they treated her. About the Ministry, they _did_ notice, but we're talking about six hundred years ago, young lady, and the matters were not taken as they are today. Magic outside the Wizarding World was not considered a crime. Eventually people that knew about our world were forced to turn into wizards or else cleaned from their memories and the new law was stated."

"But, I think it was foolish of her to buy wands if she knew her parents were going to do everything possible to destroy them."

"Yes, yes, I think so myself."

"Sir, how do you know this story if she lived so much years ago?"

"Well, not so many years have passed, but everyone knows her story, dear, she's famous!"

"But why is she famous if — "

"I would love to continue answering your questions but time does not let us. I can only tell you one thing more: She was called Theresa Evans, the Mother of the Wands. It was a pleasure meeting you; I'm very glad that the wand had chosen you. Good-bye! Ta-ta!"

_Ta-ta? Well, there's something new_, I thought. When he had finished, I approached George, looked at the wand's box, opened my mouth to ask the question I had in mind and, before I could say anything, and as if he had read my mind he said, "A gift from Harry." I then closed my mouth, stunned.

"Where to go next?" I asked, after I had recovered from the 10-second-shock that the alarming news had given to me.

"Um, there," he said pointing at a shop labelled Eeylops Owl Emporium. "If you would like an owl, that is. Well, I supposed you'd want one — because Harry has one — They deliver letters, too — Bloody smart creatures they are, actually — Better than Ron at directions, did you know?"

"I'd love an owl!" I said with an excited smile, which washed out almost instantly. "But, George, I haven't any — "

"Look, it seems to me that Harry likes you, Susanna. Again, he gave me all this money to buy your stuff," and he showed me a handful of galleons. "He told me his parents had left him too much money, and he doesn't have _any_ idea what to spend it on. You two make a great couple, y'know. . ."

"Thanks, George. Now let's buy the owl and —"

"If you ask me, he seems very crazy about you —"

"Stop it, George, don't be so —"

"— starts looking at people weirdly. . . But when he looks at you —"

"What if we _head_ on to the _Owlery_ — " I was getting very nervous now.

"— I caught him smiling at you once, y'know? Once or twice, I don't recall exactly. . . Maybe you should make some move or —"

"_OH, PLEASE!_" I said, while my mind was circling with thoughts and I got the point that I felt a tickling sensation in my stomach and a big smile stretched in my face. I tried _pressing my tongue against my cheek_, but it didn't work, so I instantly covered it with my hands to dissimulate a bit.

When we got to the store, I saw different types of owls, including one who looked a lot like Hedwig, just that this one had more black spots. It was obvious: My eyes were fixed on this particular cute owl which was male (another difference). So, I let George know that this was the one I liked the most. He picked up the owl in its cage and handed some coins to the man in charge of the shop ("Another gift from Harry").

"There you go. . ." said George, letting me carry the owl. "So, how are you going to call him?"

"I don't know, yet," I said looking at the owl carefully, just as I did with the wand. "Maybe I'll just let Harry put him a name — Oh, no! No, no, no, no, no, no, no. . .! Hee, hee!" I said, very quickly and nervously, my voice trembling. "No, he won't like it. Let's see, a name. . . How about Har. . . I dunno, I really donnow what 'aim wud go with 'im," I said, and I could swear my face went pink. It didn't sound like Harry, did it? Or did it sound like I don't know?

"HA! CAUGHT YOU! The clever Weasley does it again. It's _my_ Inner Eye. . ."

"What?" I said, raising my eyebrows and regretting the moment we started this conversation. It was getting somewhat dull and childish.

"Tell me, Susanna. Tell me that you were about to say 'Harry', and tried to change it to 'I'." _Yep, it sounded like Harry_.

"Well. . . I didn't _exactly _—"

"_SEE_?!" said George, looking deliriously happy. He arranged his voice to a deep yet squeaky one so that it sounded exactly like Trelawney's, Hogwarts's Divination teacher. " 'Broaden your minds,' use your Inner Eye! Oh my! If Harry likes Susanna, and Susanna likes Harry, then — "

"So what? It's a name, isn't it?" I said, ignoring the words after George's 'divination'.

"Well, of course it's a name!"

"Then, what's wrong? What's the fuss about?"

"Oh my! I can't believe I posses the _Sight_! I was right, I was right!"

"Let's buy my school robes, all right?" _Ooh, so now it's rhyming_ _time_?

"You like Harry!"

"What?! I mean. . ." I was driven dumbstruck. For one moment I was going to negate George's statement, but I didn't want him to think that I didn't like Harry. Nor did I wanted to agree; I didn't want him to know that I liked him so much that I had everything K-mart or Amazon could sell about Harry Potter. I couldn't imagine myself saying: "Yeah, I like him, and am _ABSOLUTELY _proud of it!" So that's why I kept my mouth shut. Voices in my ears shouted _Hallelujah _when I saw Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. It was my chance:

"So, George, what clothes do I need for school?"

"You'll need a plain black robe, blouse, skirt, and socks, all gray, but I think those shoes you have on are perfect. That's it, I s'pose."

Again, we entered the shop, Madam Malkin took my measures, handed me my clothing and George handed Harry's money to Madam Malkin. I was really looking forward to putting on the school robes.

When we got outside, George asked me, "Can we go to — to the joke shop just around the corner?" I couldn't believe it; George was asking me something as if I were his mother.

"Well, if I were your mother I would say no; because it's time to go to bed." I said firmly.

"I didn't ask you to put in mum's place! Please say yes, please say yes! Please?"

"Something tells me we should go now, George." I said, looking at my watch. "It's ten o'clock already."

"I'll give you a kiss!" he said.

I blushed. "That's very nice of you, but no, I think we should leave at once."

"Mum expects us to be there at eleven o' clock! Besides, maybe you'll find something interesting for yourself!" said George in a convincing tone.

"I'm not into joke stuff," I said, coldly.

"Then, what if my legs were to accidentally turn in the direction of Flourish and Blotts _before_ going to the joke shop?"

"Then I say it's a deal," I rapidly said. Now the responsible Susanna said, (again, in a pronounced English accent) _'You brainless idiot, look what you've done!!! Instincts lead only to calamities!!! Now George's going to buy something terrible, and if it turns out to be a dangerous prank where someone will get hurt it'll be all your fault!!! If it turns out to be anything not-dangerous — which I doubt — then you should thank God for your ginormous good luck!!! That's the second time in the day you've disappointed me!!!_' I ignored it.

When the door to the bookstore appeared at our right, I saw George turning in the direction of it, but there was something wrong; he didn't move for some seconds, then faced away from the shop and continued his way to the joke shop.

The apparently digested chicken inside me let out a "_**PP-KWAAAAAAAAAAAAP**_!" There was nothing wrong; George had said that his legs would _turn_ in the direction of the shop; he never said we were going to enter and take a look at the books. I sighed loudly and followed George. All my inner aspects, their extreme version, were driving me crazy: _A fool!!! That's what you are! . . .Can't believe you! Didn't you know he meant it literally? What would you expect of him? Next time pay attention and ask him as many questions as necessary to make sure what's his intention._

There were not many people on the joke shop; only the cashier, a small girl and an older boy, presumably her big brother, a group of teenagers, and an old woman with a hooked nose. George led the way toward an aisle labeled by a wooden board floating in midair as 'Distracting items'. There were many weird objects I had never seen before; I grabbed one of them. It looked like a slice of pink kiwi, only bigger, wrapped in a transparent bag that read 'Stink Pellets'. I turned it over; there was a warning that said: '_Caution: May cause skin and eye irritation. If accidental ingestion occurs, do not induce vomiting; call a Potion control center right away. Contents under pressure — Do not use near hot cauldrons, in the presence of dragons or any source of extreme heat, as it may explode and cause highly undesirable consequences._' I put the stink pellet back into its shelf and looked at other things in the shop. Near the cash register, a sign above a crystal box with a particularly big book said:

The Most Complete Encyclopaedia of Essential Spells, Charms and Enchantments for the New Witch or Wizard,

Fifth edition,

Revised by the International Committee of Spell-masters

I couldn't believe it! This was _exactly_ was I was looking for! But, in a joke shop? Surely it had something that earned its way to this place. . . Maybe it's not worth buying; maybe it has spells that do funny things. . . Then again, the International Committee of Spell-masters sounded like a serious thing. I walked up to George who was kneeling beside a box that said 'Skiving Snackboxes' and said to him "I thought they only sold joke stuff in here."

George looked at me, frowning, "That _is_ what they sell here." I replied, "So how do you explain this. . ." and grabbed his arm to lead him to the sign. He stared at it for some seconds then a big smiled spread through him. I thought George didn't like encyclopaedias!

"Do you also like encyclopaedias, George?" I asked; he looked at me incredulously.

"I'll talk to you later," he said, and went running to the cashier; I followed.

"How much is that box of whizzing spiders?" George asked. My eyes were looking for that item. . . Whizzing spiders, whizzing spiders. . . Where was it? I only saw shelves filled with small telescopes, fake frogs, bags that had some slimy substance inside, more stink pellets and the box that had the encyclopaedia. The cashier also seemed to be looking for the whizzing spiders. Finally he said, "Oh, you mean the box?" And he pointed – with an umbrella – at the crystal box that contained the encyclopaedia. George nodded.

"Whizzing spiders? George, do you need glasses?" I said, half-laughing.

"Mi vision's as perfect as an owl's," he said. "And the sign says very clearly 'Whizzing Spiders'!"

"But, isn't that an encyclopaedia, sir?" I asked.

George laughed. "_I know who needs glasses!_" he muttered under his breath. I threw him a very nasty look. "Don't you know how to read? It says in the sign 'Very Scary Whizzing Spiders, Limited Edition'. "

The young cashier seemed to be understanding our problem, because he was nodding. "It's our Find-What-You-Seek Box."

"Oh!" I said excitedly, while George said, "_What_?"

George didn't seem to understand, so the cashier said to him, "People see in it what they are looking for, in case they don't find it anywhere else in the shop." Finally George exclaimed, "Ah, that's convenient!"

The young man continued, "But if for example you are looking for Skiving Snackboxes, and you see them in the box," he pointed at it, "You will see that we charge a bit more for it than we do with the ones we have in that aisle," he pointed at the place where George was looking. "So before buying anything that you see in the box, make sure you've not seen it anywhere else in the joke shop. . . or ask me; after all, I _work_ here. But I didn't tell you _that_," he said seriously.

"So, anything can appear in that box? Anything you're looking for?" I asked.

"Yeah," the cashier said, "as long as it is not too big."

"Even things that are not joke-related?" I asked, hopefully.

"Yeah, though that's not very common," he said, while I grinned. "People usually come here when they're looking for joke stuff, you know. After all, this _is_ a joke shop."

"So how much is the encyclopaedia?" I asked, happily.

"Let me see. . ." He looked at a paper in his desk. "Clothes, 2 galleons; All Books, 1 galleon; Joke Shop Products, 1 galleon, but if we have it in stock it's 10 Knuts more expensive; everything else, 5 galleons."

"What?" George shouted. "What if I'm looking for toilet paper?" The cashier raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes sleepily. "Will you charge me 5 galleons?"

"Yeah," said the young man boringly; he straightened up. "But I know you're smarter than that," he sniggered and with his right hand knocked at George's head, then muttered, as to himself, "Yep, it's not hollow." George massaged his head in the place where the young man had hit him. Then, in his normal tone, the cashier said, "You can produce it with a spell, you know." He looked at me. "That lady can lend you the encyclopaedia. You'll have to buy it first though, obviously."

I looked at George, "Can — can you _please_ buy it? The encyclopaedia?"

He looked at me for a minute, then said, "Sorry, I can't. . . I, eh, just have a Galleon," which he showed to me. It was a golden coin with a radius the size of an American nickel.

"So? That's what it costs. Books are extremely useful," I said convincingly.

"I have to buy the whizzing spiders. . ." said George, preparing to hand over the Galleon to the cashier to buy them.

"For what? Scaring your brother Ron? There are more things to life than having fun, George, you have to understand that."

"Are you _psychic_?" George said, surprised.

"No, I don't think so. But I was thinking about it and maybe I _do_ possess the _Sight_." I grinned. "So can you please buy me the encyclopaedia? I promise, when I earn some money I will pay you back! I promise!"

"But, I only have a Galleon."

"But, can't you buy the spiders later?" I said. The responsible Susanna said '_Later! LATER!? He should NEVER buy those Whizzy — things! You're acting exceptionally strange lately, Susanna! What's with you?_' Then the nice Susanna exclaimed: '_Don't be so pushy to him! He's brought you here, he's been all nice to you, and this is how you repay him? He has all the right to buy what he wants, even if it isn't for a reasonable purpose whatsoever_. "I mean, do you really _have_ to buy them?"

George looked stressed. I began, "George. . ."

"Oh for heaven's sake! Get up here, lady, whatever your name is! I can't bear it!" the cashier beckoned at me.

"Me?" I asked, mildly shocked.

"Yes, _you_, lady," he responded. I walked toward him. "Climb these steps, open the door and get the book." I obeyed: I climbed a pair of steps, opened the crystal door and snatched the encyclopædia. George said, "Whoa! How did the whizzing spiders turn into that book in less than a second?" It was very heavy and seemed bigger now than from the floor. I got down to the floor and looked at the crystal box again; it appeared to be empty now. The cashier said, "Keep it." I frowned; surely the cashier did not mean to give me the book for free.

"But George has not agreed to —" I started.

"Meaning you don't have to pay for it," he said simply, looking away and drumming his fingers on the desk.

"Yes, but. . ." I said, but George nudged me.

"Keep it, before I change my mind," he smiled for the first time; with it, he revealed a quite handsome face. I smiled back and opened the book from the back. It had nearly two thousand pages and a small illustration every few lines.

George looked from me to the cashier. "So that means I can have the whizzing spiders for free too?"

The smile faded from the cashier's young face. "I know you have a galleon with you."

"Oh! that's too bad! Alright, then, I'll buy them," he handed the galleon to the cashier. He stood waiting. From my experience, George had to retrieve the bewitched fake spiders from the box, because if somebody else did, they would get what _they_ want.

"What are you waiting for?" the young man asked. "Get the whizzing spiders! Unless, of course, you wanted to give me the money as a donation."

"Oh, right," he said, and climbed the steps to get the spiders, although he did not need to do it, because he was reasonably tall. I watched him take something from the box — I didn't see anything — and when it was out of it, a bag of small, black spiders appeared in George's hand.

"Thank you for your purchase, please come again," the cashier said, singsong.

Instead of making for the door to leave, George looked for other interesting things that were in the shop. I, on the other hand, sat down on the floor and began to read the encyclopaedia's prologue. After about 5 minutes I was beginning to worry; it was a quarter to eleven and George's mom would be expecting us to arrive soon.

"George!" I said; we were the only customers on the shop now. "It's a quarter to eleven!"

"So?" he said. "Give me just a minute." I sighed and continued to read. The book was amazing, it was organized in the following way:

Prologue...1

Making a Perfect Cast...7

Production Spells...10

Modification Spells... 65

Transfiguration Spells...148

Memory Charms...216

Element Incantations...300

Defensive Spells...372

Hexes...450

Jinxes...567

Counter-curses...643

Learning to cast non-verbal spells... 964

Becoming a Spell-master...985

Potions...1009

Glossary...1741

Index...1858

Before I knew it, it was eleven o'clock. "GEORGE! It's eleven o'clock!"

"Mmm," he said, recklessly.

"Your mother is waiting for us!" I said, worried.

"Alright, alright!" He came. "Let's go, then. . ."

We got outside and walked to a place where very few people were walking; even though it was late, there were still many wizards in Diagon Alley. George took out the battery and began the countdown, "Five. . . Four. . . Three . . . Two-oo . . ." I was ready to touch the battery, but then George sneezed. "Sorry — three. . . two. . . one. . .now!" We touched the _Portkey_ at the same time and found ourselves in the Weasley's garden again, this time dimmed by the absence of the sun. There was a noise and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in pajamas, appeared in the doorsteps, as she had done this afternoon.

"About time! I was beginning to worry about you!" she said; I looked at George with a face that said _'Told you!'_. We entered the five-story home; George put my owl and the bag with my school robes and my wand in a corner and went up the stairs, while I waited for Mrs. Weasley to tell me where I was going to sleep or any other additional detail.

"It's six minutes past eleven, dear, you should get a good night's sleep before going to Hogwarts. I told Ginny to wait for you, she's reading upstairs; ask her for your pajamas, she must have found some spare one." I made to climb the stairs, but then Mrs. Weasley said, "Oh, and — I know I told you this already, but — make yourself at home!"

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley!" I replied and continued up the stairs. I opened the door and, as Mrs. Weasley had said, Ginny was still awake.

"Oh, hello, how did it go?" she asked me, putting her book aside; I closed the door behind me. It was a very small room, with two twin-sized beds, one at each side, an end table between them, and a small dresser near the door. There was a window on top of the end table, and the only sources of light were a magical lamp on the end table and the light that came from downstairs in the kitchen.

"Fine! I got all the things I needed plus this book!" I showed it to her.

"Wow!" she said, looking at several pages. "Very expensive, was it?"

"No, would you believe me if I told you I got it for free?" I said happily.

"Really? Wow, that's so unusual," she said, giving me back the encyclopaedia. "It's great!"

"Thanks! Do you have extra pyjamas?" I asked, placing the book on my bed.

"Oh, no, I was looking for one, but I didn't find it. I'm sorry," she said.

"Oh, okay," for some seconds I lay motionless in my bed, thinking, then I remembered my encyclopaedia. "Ginny?"

"Mm hmm?"

"Do you think it's dangerous for me to try a spell for the first time — now?" I asked, getting to my feet.

"What kind of spell?" she asked, sitting on the bed with her legs crossed.

"A spell to produce a pyjama," I said, opening the encyclopaedia on the Index.

"I don't think so; the worst that can happen is the pyjama being not your size, and you can always try again, so that's not a problem," she said, reasonably.

"I'll be right back," I said, went down the stairs, got the wand and went back to Ginny's room. "Now, I'd have to produce some fabric, like a square metre or so, scissors, a needle and thread. . . Production Spells. . . Page 10. . .Aha! '_All production spells begin by double waving of the wand, pointing upwards, followed by a flicking movement._' And fabric is. . . fabric. . . Aha! '_Textum_'. Now how do I decide the quantity, quality and colour of the material?"

"Hmm . . ." Ginny said. She got up and looked at the book. "Look, it says down here you have to really concentrate on it."

"Okay, that would be cotton, about a metre of fabric, and sky blue — I love that colour," I said.

"Well, go on!" Ginny urged.

"Wait," I said, and closed my eyes firmly. "Double-wave, flick. . . Cotton, a metre, sky blue, Textum. . . okay. . ."

"GO on!" Ginny said, eagerly.

"Oh, I'm so nervous! Okay. . ." I closed my eyes to concentrate better on the image, waved the wand two times toward the ceiling and at the same time of the flicking movement, I said, "_Textum_!" I began to open my eyes slowly. A metre or so of sky-blue fabric was floating on midair.

"Oh my goodness!" said Ginny, clapping her hands, "that's great! That's really good!"

"Whoa," I was so excited! My first spell! And it turned out all right! Ginny got to her feet and touched the fabric. It instantly stopped floating and fell to her hands.

"It's soft! Like you wanted!" Ginny said, I grinned. "Well, continue with the other stuff!" she said, anxiously.

"Okay, okay, let me recover from the shock . . . !" I said; we both laughed. "So it's the scissors next, right?" I said, rhetorically, while looking for the word 'scissors'. "Here! It's '_forfipes_'. That's a nice name! Here I go . . ." I waved the wand two times then flicked it and said 'Forfipes!'. This time, I had my eyes open so I could see a silvery substance getting out of the wand and obtaining the shape of medium-sized scissors. After some seconds, the substance had transformed into solid metal and was floating on midair, too. "Good, now how do I get the scissors to cut the fabric without cutting your bed?"

"You'd have to make it float like the scissors are doing now," she said simply.

"Obviously, but how do I do that?" I returned to the index, then remembered the levitation spell. "I could use 'Wingardium Leviosa' then jinx the scissors, but the levitation spell lasts only while I'm controlling it; I can't do two spells at the same time!"

"There's got to be another way. . ." she said. "Maybe if you tried 'Wingardium Leviosa' and then quickly try another spell to hold the fabric in place . . ."

"That's it! There has to be a 'Holding Charm' or something like that, let me see. . ."

"How about 'Arresto Momentum'?" Ginny said; I looked down at the floor, thinking. "Professor Dumbledore used it last year to stop Harry from falling hard in the floor when he dropped off his broom."

"Well, I'll try, but I can't assure you anything. . . _Wingardium Leviosa_!" the fabric raised as I moved my wand, then rapidly said, "Arresto Momentum!"

_BANG_

The room was filled with colourful lights while it shook from side to side; the lamp on the end table flashed for a couple of moments.

"What was that?" asked Ginny, terrified. "And mum's probably coming to see what's happened. . ."

The door was closed, so that when Mrs. Weasley talked, his voice was barely audible, "Fred — George ! You're not using those Fizzing Whizzbees in your room again, are you?", she said, in an _I-think-I-know-what-these-two-are-up-to_ tone.

And then, in an even lower volume, we heard, "No mum," — "No Fizzing Whizbees here," — "Not a chance," — "We're good boys."

"You better be!" Mrs. Weasley shouted.

"Ok," I said. "If I can't do _Arresto Momentum_, then what spell am I going to try now?"

"Maybe it's not you, maybe the spell doesn't work in this place, or that the spell isn't the most suitable for this. Look up 'Holding charm' or something like that."

"Let me see. . ." I turned to the index again. "How about this one? It's the suspension charm — of course! It's the one Hermione used to paralyse the cornish pixies two years ago!"

"Er — how d'you — ?" Ginny stammered.

"Not difficult to remember. . . It's 'immobilus', like immobilize. Now. . ." I waved the wand with a swishing and then a flicking movement, while I said: '_Wingardium Leviosa_'. I rose the fabric further upwards than I had intended earlier so that it didn't hit the ground too soon, then quickly said '_Immobilus!_'. The fabric stood on place. "Great! Now to bewitch the scissors." It was great how all the spells I tried turned out all right, was the wand the reason why they did? '_Makes sense to me_,' said one of the Susannas, probably the humble one, '_because you've never even tried one spell before_!' '_Shut up_,' said the know-it-all, '_my faculties are presently at work! For your information, my absolutely superior magical talents are the ones behind all this_.'

So, in this manner I continued to do spells and enchantments until, finally, at five to midnight I had produced fair pyjamas that were roughly my size.

"Put it on! See if it fits!" Ginny urged me, eagerly.

I put it on; it was a bit tight, but considering the fact that it was the result of all my first spells, I was greatly satisfied. I sat on the bed and looked at the lamp in the table. I blinked instinctively and the lamp stopped giving off light.

"Uh, what has happened?" I asked, perplexed.

"Oh," Ginny said. Then a second later, the light came again. "It's the lamp. . . My brother Percy modified it so that we can easily turn it on and off by simply blinking while staring at it. It's quite clever."

"Excellent!" I said, then blinked many times at the lamp. It flashed many times on and off. Ginny's lamp had turned into a groovy dancing disco ball! I began singing a made-up techno song and did the so-called _robot_. We both laughed vigorously. "This is amazing. . . It's like a dream come true!" I said, relaxing on the bed.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked.

"The fact that I'm here! In a magical world, away from mine. . ." This made me think of my family again.

"Oh, well, I guess your story's a bit different from other Muggles'. In the first place, it's other people who took you from your country to here, not your family. Second, you received the letter at your school instead of your house. Third, you're going to enter Hogwarts right into 4th year, not 1st year like the rest of us did. Matters have changed a lot in such a short period of time!"

"Yes, they have! Hm! Every time I think of all the Harry Potter things I have at home and then I find myself here. . . Real Harry Potter. . . Live! It's so much better than all the things I have about him in my room."

"What? You knew about Harry even before they went to pick you up?" Ginny asked, perplexed and amazed at the same time.

"Yes, he's particularly famous in pretty much all of the world!" I said.

"Really?! What do you _exactly_ mean by famous?" Ginny asked.

I shrugged, "Almost everyone knows who he is, and for the rest, his name rings a bell."

Ginny frowned, as though thinking, _'Is Susanna feeling well?'_. "We thought he was only famous in our world! I mean, muggles are not supposed to know about this kind of things! Muggles go mad and wizards go mad as a result!"

"Well, muggles know more than his name. . . They have action figures, collector cards, and, as a matter of fact, they know all of you. . . Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Vol – er – You-Know-Who I mean, Rita Skeeter, even you, Ginny!" I said, mirthfully.

"Me? All — What exactly do you mean by _all_ of us?" Ginny was beginning to look worried.

"I told you! Your family, everyone at Hogwarts, everyone at the Ministry, Harry's family. . ." I emphasized every word in the following phrase, "_Every single character in Joanne Kathleen Rowling's books_!"

Ginny was in a state you couldn't tell whether she was astonished or anxious. "_What in the wizardly world are you talking about_?"

I sighed deeply. "I'm saying that all muggles on earth know about every magical person in your world because there's a British lady who made you all by writing about you in a set of seven books titled: _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_, _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_, _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_, _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_, _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_,_ Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ and _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows _– First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth and Seventh years at Hogwarts respectively – which narrate, from a point of view that's focussed on Harry's life, what happens to him and to all the faculty and students at Hogwarts and how every single thing that happens — usually related to You-Know-Who — affects each and every one of you, particularly Harry Potter, whose parents were killed by He-Who-Must-Blah-Blah-Be-Named and who's famous because he's the only person who has survived the unforgivable killing curse 'Avada Kedavra' when he was just months old, which makes him even more renowned!"

There was a really long pause. Then,"You really know what you're talking about, don't you?" Ginny said, amazed. "At first I thought you were joking, but now it seems it's true what you said. I mean, no one who's making up something like that can spring up all those words and be serious while talking at the same time. . ."

"Of course it is true! Plus there's this company called Warner Brothers which, in cooperation with Chris Columbus (director), Steve Kloves (screenwriter), Mark Radcliffe (producer), John Williams (soundtrack composer), Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, Richard Harris, R.I.P., James and Oliver Phelps[... which are actors, began the filming of the motion picture Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (U.S.A.), or, as known in the UK, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in the year 2001. And did you know that your name in _real life_ is Bonnie Wright?"

Ginny didn't know what else to say, was I speaking too much? _Yes, highly probable_, said one Susanna. _No, no, of course not! Feel free to continue chin-wagging until you drive poor Ginny Weasley crazy_, said another one. _She's already crazy_, said another in a dull voice.

"Okay, you know what? Just forget all of what I just said. . . It will only confuse you more than what you are now."

"No, no, it's fine. I — I think I get it," Ginny said. I was surprised. "It's like we're characters from a story or something, and that we've come out of the book we belong to. . . But I don't know this Rowling woman, I mean — I know I'm not supposed to — This really is confusing! — It's very difficult to believe or understand — How can it be? But at the same time, it seems so interesting!"

"Tell me about it," I said. "Well, now you can understand how am I feeling!"

"Yeah. . . Wow. . . _How can this be_?! I — Ouch, my brain hurts — But I'd like to figure out this thing!" Ginny said, pressing her right hand against her forehead.

"Yes, me too! It really is like a dream. . . You know what? Let's just leave it there. . . Don't try to figure it out because then we're going to have a serious problem with our brains. Something just isn't right. . . Sooner or later we're going to find out what it is. . . I hope. . ."

"Yeah, me too," Ginny said, turning off the magical lamp, this time by blowing air to it, like a candle. "Good night, then. Sweet dreams. . ."

"Thanks, but I'm already living one. . . And, God! Is it sweet! Hee, hee! Goodnight."


	4. The Hogwarts Express

**Chapter Four: The Hogwarts Express**

A weak ray of sunshine woke me up the following morning. Judging by the position of the sun, I calculated it was just a few minutes after six. I glanced at Ginny: she was still sleeping, grasping her pillow tightly. I put on my school shoes and went to the bathroom. As I hadn't brought my brush and paste to clean my teeth, I looked up a spell that could do the same thing. When I had found it, I tried it and my mouth felt so clean it was as though I had just left the dentist's office.

Not even Mrs. Weasley had woken up, and I was not going to sleep anymore, so I grabbed the encyclopaedia and began reading. Minutes went by unnoticed as I read about charms and spells. . . There were so much of them! At least some of the spells' words were very similar to Spanish words I used daily — at least back in Puerto Rico. This was good because I could easily memorize them. Other spells I already knew because they had been mentioned on the Harry Potter books. _I need to learn this fast!_ I thought, _I'm going right into fourth year — people expect me to know a great deal of magic_. Pages full of explanations. . . Expelliarmus — the disarming spell; Tergeo — the cleaning spell; Expecto Patronum — fends off dementors by unleashing power in the form of an animal that varies with the witch or wizard. . . I wondered what my patronus was shaped like. . . Everything went black for some time — perhaps just a minute, until —

"Susanna, _Susanna_!" someone was whispering. That same person was shaking me gently. It had to be mum, but it was strange, because she never shook me to wake me up.

"Is it 6:30 already, mum?" I asked. I opened my eyes; everything was blurry, black and white. "Oh no, am I going blind?"

"That's because your face is against a book, dear," she said, helping me get up. I had forgotten everything about yesterday. Of course! I was at the Burrow! Then it hadn't been a dream, huh? _Spellbinding_!

"I didn't want to wake you up earlier, not after that long journey!" Mrs. Weasley said, closing the encyclopaedia and placing it on top of the end table. "You must be exhausted!" she said sympathetically.

"Where's Ginny?" I asked, noticing she wasn't on the bed in the opposite side.

"Arthur's taking the kids for some last-minute shopping. You know — quills, ink bottles, parchment. . ." she said, waving her hands. "But it's almost ten o'clock, you should eat something and then I'll take you to King's Cross, alright?"

"Okay, Mrs. Weasley," I said, standing up and grabbing my witch robes and preparing to dress up.

"Good girl — I'll be downstairs making breakfast, then," and she scuttled toward the kitchen, one floor below.

After putting on the robes, I had a delicious omelette that tasted better than the ones I ate at home. _It's the hen_, I assured myself. _A British hen put this egg, that's why it tastes different. Mum can absolutely cook as good as Mrs. Weasley_, I thought. After the omelette, Mrs. Weasley gave me a chocolate-chip cookie. It was very tasty, but still not as delectable as the ones my English teacher baked. After completing breakfast with a glass of pumpkin juice, Mrs. Weasley said, "Arthur and the others have your things, Susanna, so you just have to worry about yourself, alright?" I nodded. "Well, then let's — "

And in that moment, an owl came zooming from outside — it was heading toward the kitchen window. Mrs. Weasley muttered something like '_Dora_'.The problem was that it was closed. I knew what was going to happen — the _Windex_ commercial all over again! It was getting closer now, and Mrs. Weasley had not noticed the window — or else she didn't know what to do.

The owl was now so close I wondered if I had time to do something. _Open the window, you idiot_!, said one Susanna. But I didn't remember the spell that opened things! I didn't know if it was something like Aperto or — _'You idle idiot! Use your hands! You don't have to depend on your wand! You were a muggle before this!_' Right! I ran toward the window as fast as I could — the owl was feet from the window — I was feet from the window. I was looking for the place where the window opened — where is it? It was no time to ask Mrs. Weasley, I took out my wand, hopeful that my mind would not betray me, and pointing it at the window — the owl a metre away — cried "Aperto!"

The window burst open at once, and a millisecond after I began brushing the sweat off my forehead with the back of my right hand, the owl collided — with me. I was thrown back some feet, which made me lose balance and fall to the floor. There were owl feathers all over the place.

"Oh dear, maybe it would have been better if you just had left the window as it was," Mrs. Weasley said pitifully. She hurried toward me to help me straighten.

My head hurt where the owl had crashed with me. "Well, at least look at the bright side, Mrs. Weasley — I remembered a spell!"

"Yes, well, let me look at this," Mrs. Weasley took the letter from the owl and read to herself. When she finished she said, "It's Arthur's sister, Dora, she wants me to go help her with her garden. Her daughter's getting married tomorrow and she wants it all neat and clean. How nice," but the sarcasm was clearly notable; she didn't get along well with her sister-in-law. I then understood why hadn't she prevented the owl from crashing — it was Dora's. She sighed deeply and yelled, "George, get up! You have to go to King's Cross Station with Susanna!"

"Wasn't George with the rest?" I asked, rhetorically.

"Can't you see I'm here?" George said, at the top of the flight of stairs, dressed in robes that had the word Expelliarmus written all over it, with little wands of different colours scattered across it. "I mean, it's obvious unless I could be at two places at the same time, which I obviously can't."

Mrs. Weasley grinned. "That's why I love my son — he has such a great sense of humour."

"And that is why I love mum _so_ much — she loves my sense of humour," George put an arm around his mother.

"But that sense of humour," continued Mrs. Weasley, pulling George's arm out of her shoulder. "Is what sometimes brings trouble to this house." George blushed slightly. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a garden to tidy up. George — you know what's your mission."

"Yeah, mum," he said, yawning. "C'mon, Sue." I grabbed Firetail and made sure I had my wand and encyclopaedia with me before following George.

Hardly two minutes later, we were at King's Cross Station, staring at a brick column that separated two platforms. "I'm afraid we'll have to take the long way, Susanna," said George, staring at the column between platforms nine and ten. He was carrying my snowy owl. I nodded, yet I didn't know what the short way was. You couldn't possibly Apparate inside Hogwarts, if that's what George considered 'the short way'.

"That's all right, I'll have plenty of time to — " I was a bit too overexcited because my mouth was about to burst, 'to get to know Harry'. Why was I about to say this? Was Harry aboard the train or was he not? Was he taking the long way or the short way? For the second time in the day, I closed my mouth and began looking for words that would fit right after the phrase. "— to ask Ron about chess. . ."

"Oh, you can ask him," said George looking around. "He's going the long way, too."

"Oh, great!" I said, trying to sound excited, something I actually managed because if Ron took the long way, then Harry would take it too; at least that was what I was hoping for.

"Know how this goes, right?" asked George looking at me.

"I — think so. . ." I said before I closed my eyes, sighed and prepared my mind to what was about to come. Then I was interrupted.

"Oh, no, right! Hee, hee! Forgot you were a muggle!" George said. I became impatient and sighed deeply. George cleared his throat. "You run straight between platforms nine and ten. Don't panic, I know that face," but I was sure my face was completely relaxed. "You're not going to crash. It's not a brick wall — it's bewitched. . .It's like a fluffy wall. Imagine it's a big, fluffy, nice little wall." But the image of a big fluffy little wall was simply amusing. I had never ever heard the word 'fluffy' and 'wall' next to each other, perhaps not even in the same sentence together. The same was true about big and little, referring to the same object.

"Ready?" said George, while I nodded. We began walking towards the column and before I could say Quidditch, I was looking at a large smoking train, people nearby trying to get aboard it. My heart forced me to a smile as I approached the train. I saw Neville, Seamus, Ron and other Hogwarts students, but no sign of Harry. _"Was Harry going to travel by the flying car along with Fred? Was that the short way? That couldn't be, that's illegal; they're underage wizards. Besides, if the Ministry hears about it, they could be expelled; Muggles can see them if they get to look at the sky. Wait a minute. . . They flung to my school in the flying car. Why can't they fly to Hogwarts then? How did they travel without being seen? Or did someone see them? Have they repaired the invisibility booster? Anyway, the Ministry should let them, they know what they are doing,"_ I thought to myself, eager to ask someone these unanswerable-at-the-moment questions.

Suddenly, I realized George was shouting something at me, but it was as though my feet had grown roots, my ears had shut and my eyes had closed during the time I was thinking whether Harry was travelling by rails or air; I was still standing on the same spot, but George had walked a bit further as he hadn't noticed I wasn't following him. He continued to shout at me but I didn't know what was he trying to tell me, I didn't hear; I was staring at him brainlessly. Then, George approached me, and a pat in the shoulder was enough to bring me back to my senses.

"Susanna!" George said with a stormy look on his face, "The train!"

"Huh?" I took a look at the clock: It was one to eleven. I didn't wait a second more; I ran toward the nearest entrance to the train and, not long after George and I had stepped into the train, it began its journey. George closed the door and we started looking for seats. Again, my heart gave a tickling sensation when I thought about what may come when we arrive to Hogwarts. I almost couldn't believe it. And it wasn't until this moment that I began wondering why Dumbledore would want me in this school. _"Why me? Can it occur that I actually have magical talent?"_ I requested myself. And now, it came to me — mum. I began worrying about her because she'd probably be worried about me too.

"Petrified, you were, back there. I was afraid you might have been Confunded," he said. Finally, George found an empty compartment for us to seat. "Brought you your owl, by the way . . ." he said, lifting my pet's cage. He put a finger through the bars and said, in a voice most people talk to babies, "Aren't you a cute adorable little creat — !" If George had waited a second more to retrieve his finger, my owl would have probably torn his finger out. I chuckled. George instantly put him in the corner at my left side and whispered, "You stay with Susanna, now, okay?"

"Yes, I noticed . . . Thank you very much. But, George," I said in a cheerless tone, "My mum — she doesn't know —"

"Oh, worry not about her; she'll be fine," he said, opening the compartment door. "Moreover, Dumbledore's probably sent her an owl already. He has loads of them, y'know. . . Like the number of Bertie Bott's Beans in a box! Er — or something like that. And let's not talk about parchment — enough to make mummies out of fifty Hagrids! He's the keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts, by the way." There was a short pause in which George straightened himself and sat down with a face from which _'Who's the man?'_, could be read. "Gosh, I feel smart teaching you all this stuff."

I seated myself feeling slightly better but still had in mind how much she would miss me. I imagined my mum hearing the hooting sound of an owl, heading toward the porch, spotting the owl, snatching the letter in its legs, opening it and reading it aloud as she walks towards the door. She is now inside, has finished reading the letter, puts a hand over her mouth and tells my father all the story between sobs. After that, everyone would know that there is a witch in the family.

I put the encyclopaedia up in the luggage rack and returned to my seat. Then I remembered my trunk.

"George, where's my trunk?"

"Relax, Ron's bringing it with him; it's probably in the luggage rack on his compartment."

Occasionally, as the voyage went on, I would look out the window esteeming the beautiful landscape of England, a country I loved just as much as my fatherland. Seconds later, my eyes fell upon George, who was filling what seemed to be an order form. It had three big W's on the front page and a cartoon showing Fred and George, back to back with arms crossed, looking tough.

"Um, George, what's that you have there?" I asked excitedly.

"This? Well — Er — a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes catalogue," George said, going red in the face and looking extremely nervous. "But _please_, don't tell mum; She'll kill us if she finds out."

"Oh," I said, feeling somewhat guilty, but I knew I was bound to keep quiet. I wish I hadn't asked. No one spoke for several minutes, until —

"George!" It was Lee Jordan. He greeted George in a very odd manner. "What's up?" he said, looking excitedly at George's papers and throwing himself beside him, making me move a little in my seat.

"I'm out of Fake Wands. And Fred wouldn't give me some of his's. . ."

"Hm! And who's she?" asked Lee Jordan, finally looking at me.

"She? Well. . ." George lowered his voice, placed the order form in front of his face — so that all I could see was a bit of his ginger hair — and began whispering to Lee Jordan. I only caught words like "she" and "Harry", and I could imagine what their conversation was about. After he had finished, the both of them broke into laughs. I ignored them and looked at the owl, thinking of names that would match his appearance. I looked at the owl more closely and noticed that it had a single small reddish purple feather on the back of his tail. "How curious," I thought. It was a long time before I had a decent name to put him, until I thought of the name "Firetail", which I considered was quite appropriate, although his tail was not completely red.

"All right, I'll call you Firetail!" I said grinning at the snowy, black-spotted owl.

"Wicked!" cried out a voice not far from me. I looked at my right and saw Ron and Fred smiling broadly at us."You bought an owl! Sorry, I hadn't seen it up until now; when you two arrived I was already having my third dream."

"Yes! Isn't it cute?" I asked attempting to tickle him. _I did NOT buy the owl, Harry did_, _you Big Fat Liar,_ my faithful side corrected.

"Er, sure," said Ron looking sick, and then I understood why he had such an ugly face: He had a box in his hands with beans of assorted colours.

"What's that?" I asked unnecessarily, as I knew what it was, pointing at the small box he was holding.

"These are Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans — " said Ron, placing a hand over his mouth. Apparently, Ron was about to throw up.

"A risk — " said Fred, stopping when Ron hurried to the window, coughing.

"Eew, disgusting," he said, looking better than he had appeared before.

" — with every mouthful," continued Fred, smirking at him.

"And they literally mean every flavour," said George, hiding his papers in his back. "Don't eat them all in one gulp, or you could be risking your tongue's life."

"Wanna try some?" asked Ron.

I stood there, looking at the box; everybody was looking at me as though waiting for me to do something. Their eager look ceased when I said, "All right," and they all uttered a sigh of alleviation. I approached Ron and looked at the box to choose one that was not green.

"Don't trust the colours!" said Fred. "I once ate a red one that tasted like raw meat."

'_At least that's better than vomit flavour_,' I thought. "Then which one am I supposed to pick out?" I asked.

"The solution is simple: Close your eyes and pick the one your hand desires!"

I put my hand over the box, looked at the rusty ceiling and pulled out a bean. I looked at it: it was dreadfully green. I slowly brought it to my mouth (everybody had their eyes fixed on the bean), chewed it until I experienced its flavour. Now everyone had eyes so big that it seemed that they were going to detach from the face.

"Mm! Mint!" I said gushily, while Fred, George and Lee Jordan all threw me a look of deep disappointment. They, unmistakably, had expected me to eat a bogey-flavoured one or other of such kind.

"Lucky you," said Ron joyfully. "The first time I tried them. . . Well — let's just say that I couldn't go see the Chudley Cannons at their match against Germany's team. . . ."

"And _that_ is saying something," said Fred. "Ron _loves_ them. . . He'll be marrying them really soon."

"Really horrible that day, wasn't — " said George.

"Shut up — Don't make me call it back," said Ron.

"He couldn't get out of the bathroom. . ."

"He nearly got mum call the Ministry. . ."

"August the second of 1988, I remember it just as if it were yesterday. . ."

"Oh poor Ronnie, bad day he had; didn't you, Ron?"

"Shut up!"

"Oh, you don't want to remember it, do you?"

"Was it liver or spinach?"

"Let's leave him alone. . ." said Lee Jordan. "You two have already annoyed him enough for _years _. . . It's not that he doesn't deserve it," he said, naturally; I glared at him; Lee got somewhat scared and said, "Well, he _doesn't_ deserve it, to be honest."

"Lee, is that you? Your behaviour is — _strange_. Wasn't it you who suggested that prank on Ron last year? The one that involved his underwear?" George asked. Ron blushed while Lee looked offended. "Hm. . . But I guess you're right, let's leave it there so that Ron can get a good day's sleep before arriving," he said. Fred nodded looking scandalized, muttered "_Where's your spirit, Lee?_" and took a seat between George and Lee Jordan. Ron did the same, sitting at my left.

"Anyway," said Ron, "The silly ones aren't bad after all, after you get the hang of it. Do you want to try another one?" _Yeah, not bad — he almost threw up!_

"No thanks," I said, because I knew I would have been exposing myself to danger; a possibility of undergoing Ron's experience.

"Well, you said so. . ."

It was strange that Harry was not near Ron; they're very good friends. "Um, Ron, I was think — I just wondered — Where's Harry?"

"Huh? Harry? Oh, he's over there helping Neville."

"What happened?"

"Well, from what I heard, he was trying a spell on his left hand to clean it from toad droppings — from — wouldn't y'know it — Trevor — and all he managed to do was to worsen the thing: he accidentally multiplied the amount of droppings — And that's not all, the droppings won't come off. Hermione's tried a few times and they're still pasted on to his hand."

"Poor Neville. . ." said Fred woefully, although the fake tone was clearly notable. "He always gets into trouble."

"We believe it's nature's ways . . . His fate — his destiny — his wyrd is to get into trouble. And we have to respect that," said George, placing his right hand in his chest.

"Maybe I'll just go and see if I can help. . ." I said, leaping to my feet. I was heading toward the compartment door but stopped dead when I saw that it was blocked.

"Oh really, a Muggle like _you_?" It was Malfoy. He had come into view along with Crabbe, Goyle and other Slytherin students. "So, we meet again. Father told me you weren't a witch; he's got loads of people at the Ministry who inform him, see, but I already knew from this morning that you were another of _them_, Mudblood." Several students in nearby compartments gasped.

"Leave her alone and _shut_ _up_, Malfoy, you've got no reason to annoy her." It was Harry's voice, quivering a little; he had left his seat to see what was going on. Although I could not see his face due to Crabbe and Goyle's massive bodies, his voice was clearly audible and evident. I could almost hear, distantly, the Indiana Jones theme song.

"Look everyone! Potter's defending a _Muggle_! We _purebloods_ don't do that, you know? And neither should you," said Malfoy, looking at Harry as if he were an insignificant and disgusting bug, while the Slytherins laughed.

"Ah, Malfoy. . . Maybe it's time for you to think in another way of bothering people," said Ron noticing that I was blushing slightly. "That method of yours is starting to grow a grey beard."

"Maybe it's time for you to start thinking in a jinx that will make me do what you please, Weasel-Bee, because I won't listen to you. And I doubt there is one, so you should better save your words."

"Oh yeah?! I'll show him," Ron was saying through clenched teeth. He pulled out his wand and I had to stop him. _'Not the Imperius Curse!'_ I thought. No, it couldn't be; he was probably going to try Stupefy or something like that. Anyway, I simply _had_ to stop him from using his wand.

"Ron, no!" I said, grabbing his arm and lowering it gently. "We're not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts! Remember? You could be expelled!"

"Uh, right. . ." said Ron putting the wand back inside his robes, his ears turning red.

Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and the Slytherins were all sniggering and, tired of our blank expressions, resigned to take on the theme.

"See you, then, redhead," Malfoy said before returning to his seat, Crabbe, Goyle and the rest following him. I looked away from them and noticed an odd bug crawling by the window.

"_Oh no_!!!" I said, when I saw that the bug had a small pearl-like pattern around the eyes.

"What?" said Ron along with something that resembled a yawn.

"Rita Skeeter!"

"Huh?! How d'you —"

"She's here! Rita Skeeter's here! Bugging us! Literally!"

And without further ado I got to my feet and scuttled toward the fancy bug, but too late — she had flown away.

"_UGH!_" I said. "That annoying pest is going to tattle about all this!"

"At least she's stopped bothering Hermion — Ooh, never mind," added Ron hastily and he went as scarlet as a tomato.

I threw myself in the seat and began sweating slightly. It wasn't until Harry talked that I noticed that he was still there, exchanging significant looks with Ron.

"W — well, we'll see — see you at the feast!" said Harry. Then he added, " — everyone."

My expression was so drastic and possibly so strange that I wondered whether Harry considered it normal or not. I was not looking at him, but I knew that he was looking at me. Something told me that he was smiling, so I smiled back at him. Then, curiosity forced me to look, and when I did, he turned on his heels and all I could see was his back. Again, I had encountered myself with the most beautiful face in the world and had been unable to withstand the positive consequences of it; in other words, I haven't been able to look at his face. I was still smiling when Lee Jordan bursted out a range of words that woke my brain once again.

"So, first thing tomorrow — _Potter's Secret Love — _Headline News for the Prophet, eh?"

Everyone exploded with laughs including Firetail, who was making a racket with the bars of the cage by him. I, on the other side, was looking blankly at the door. For the third time in two days, I remained silent because I didn't know what to say. Discussing someone like Harry wasn't really the thing I would've done in front of a bunch of people, more likely, in front of four boys.

"So, it's true?! You _do_ like Harry, then?" said Ron grinning. "Believe me, you'll have to fight for him! You're not the only one who's up for him! Won't be easy. . . Ginny — Myrtle — Cho — Romilda [... Blimey, I wish I had that number of admirers. . ."

For a moment I thought I had in front of me four of the people I could rest my confidence in, but the next words ruined it all.

" 'Course she likes Harry! She confessed it all! She told me in front of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions! In the name of Albus Dumbledore!" said George, destroying my pacific temper. _'And he just had to say it now!'_

"Merlin's beard! Is that true?" said Lee Jordan.

"_What_?!" I snapped. "I didn't — That's _rubbish_! I didn't say _that_! He wants to bother me, that's what!"

"Right. . ." said George trying to convince the others that the one who was speaking the truth was himself.

"I swear it! In front of — er — _THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_!" I was out of control!

"Ok, Susanna, we believe you; you don't have to make such a fuss ab —"

"But you can't deny that you like him, do you?! _DO YOU_?!" said George, his voice rising higher and higher.

And, like a light in the darkness it came: the lady with the food trolley was offering us candies, saying, "Chocolate frogs, dears?". Thanks to her, now I was breathing normally.

"Oh, yeah, me!" said Ron, and he began searching his robes, undoubtedly for money. He bought five packs of beans, three boxes of pumpkin dragons, a pack of long-lasting worm gum and two chocolate frogs. To my great luck, the lady had swept off all of the boys' thoughts about me and Harry, and now I could relax for the rest of the trip.

"What's that?" asked Ron, observing that George had a magazine in his hand, which was the order form I had asked him about earlier.

"Business," said Fred and George at the same time.

"And keep you big nose out of it, will you?" said Lee.


End file.
